“Rick’s okay,” he said, and let it go at that.
The familiar question had to be spoken. “Did you know my father—Jed Phillips?”
He answered readily. “I never ran into him. Which is just as well, from what Clara’s told me.”
I searched for a question that might cool his anger. “Where did you and Clara meet?”
He didn’t answer at once as we drove through the village toward the hillier section of West Sedona. Then he gave me another quick look, as though he gauged my reaction and decided to be frank. Unnervingly frank.
“My past isn’t much of a secret around here. I’d turned into a lush by the time I came to Santa Fe. Emily, Clara’s mother, makes a job of rescuing the needy. And I sure was needy by that time. She used to be a nurse, and Clara’s father is a doctor, so they brought me home, and Emily got me dried out. Anyway, I was nearly back on my feet when Clara came down to visit her parents. The rest, as they say, is history. How’s that for a thumbnail story of my life?”
I couldn’t deal with his self-derision but at least he had relaxed with me, and he seemed to expect no comment.
“How long are you going to stay?” he asked.
Everyone seemed to want to know that, and I still had no answer.
“I’m not sure,” I told him. “Not long, probably.”
His quick, sidelong look was searching. “You know something, Miss Phillips? I’ll bet you’ve been upset ever since you got to Sedona. You’ve got the look about you of a firecracker waiting to go off.”
So he too had watched me, and rather perceptively at that. Nevertheless, I didn’t think he was the one who had written the note to bring me here.
We’d reached Rick’s street, and there was no need for me to respond to Parker’s firecracker accusation. Whether or not it was true, I didn’t want to consider. I had to hold on to myself.
Parker rang the front doorbell and Consuela came to let us in.
Almost at once, Sybil appeared from another part of the house. Again, she wore a light suit of natural beige that had a couture look about it. I could recognize the details of hand stitching. So far, I’d never seen her in slacks, even though her lithe body was made for them.
“I’m glad you’ve come, Parker,” she said briskly. “Now we can start on plans for my Saturday night dinner party. As I’ve told you, Lindsay, the dinner’s to be given for you. Rick wants it.”
Her look was coolly speculative, and I knew she was planning something more than a dinner, and that the idea was not wholly Rick’s. If I knew my sister, someone was likely to be hurt, and I had a strong suspicion that it would be me. It was best to put a stop to this at once.
“I’ve wanted to tell you,” I said quickly. “I’m not sure yet whether I’ll stay. I may leave tomorrow.”
She gave me a long, studying look. “I’m not surprised. I told Rick I didn’t think you’d stay for this rather wild idea of his. Nevertheless, I hope you’ll postpone leaving for a couple of days, at least. I’ve been phoning friends who want to know Jed’s younger daughter. We mustn’t disappoint them, must we? It’s only till day after tomorrow.”
I was aware of Parker’s laconic attention.
“I’ll decide soon,” I said.
Sybil was clearly displeased. “This is really too bad of you, Lindsay. And of course you’ll break Marilla’s heart.”
That startled me. “What do you mean?”
“She has plans for you on Saturday, when she’s home from school. She’s arranged to take you on Brian’s jeep trip into the back country. His mother runs those tours now, you know. Is it really so important to leave at once?”
It was growing more important by the moment, but I wouldn’t tell her why. The last thing I wanted her to guess was that my feeling for Rick was stronger than it had ever been. During this present strain between my sister and her husband, a new focus on me might present her with exactly the ammunition she’d want to use.
“There’s a chance,” I said, keeping my tone light, “that if I stay much longer I might very well stay altogether and try to do this designing assignment Rick has told me about.”
This disconcerted her. She wouldn’t want me here for more than a few days. As always, Sybil needed to set the scene dramatically when she had something up her sleeve, and that obviously was what she planned with this dinner. I was reluctant to stay and find out why it was so important to her.
“Well, about that,” she went on, “of course you’ll need time to consider. A few more days will give you breathing space. Then you can make up your mind more sensibly. You don’t always think things through very well, Lindsay.”
The familiar put-down—and the quick rise of anger in me. I’d thought a good many things through in the years she hadn’t known me. So this time I meant to have none of her diminishing tactics. She had helped me to make up my mind.
“I’ve decided,” I said. “I’ll go to Phoenix tomorrow and catch the first plane I can for home.”
She turned smoothly to Parker. “Would you mind having a look at the menu I’ve left for you in the kitchen? I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Parker glanced at me before he turned away, his look faintly mocking—perhaps of himself as much as of me.
When he’d gone, Sybil motioned toward the sofa. “Do sit down and stop fidgeting, Lindsay. We need to talk. I’d wanted to surprise you, but now you’re forcing my hand. You see, I’ve invited someone to the dinner. Someone you really must meet—a relative of yours. In fact, a member of your real family. You’ve always wanted to know about them, haven’t you?”
I froze, staring at her blankly. She laughed, and I remembered the sound from my childhood. Even as a young girl, she’d laughed like that. Her speaking voice was musical—her laughter always harsh, splintering into notes that had an ugly ring.
“Oh, don’t get the idea I’m doing this because I want you around.” The laughter was gone and her tone had turned low and deadly. “Do you think I haven’t seen the way you look at Rick? Do you think I don’t know how quickly you’d reach for him if you could. You’ve always wanted him. Only this isn’t going to happen. I’ve my own ways, and don’t think I won’t use them. First, you’re going to stay and do what you haven’t done in your whole life, little sister. You’re going to face the truth about yourself. About who you are and what you’ve come from. If you have the courage. Though of course I won’t be surprised if you turn and run.”
I managed to find my voice. “Why did you write inviting me to come here? Rick could never have made you send that letter if you didn’t want to.”
She continued to watch me, her smile bright with malice. “Of course he couldn’t have. When your letter came, I began to make some plans of my own. You see, I’d learned about your family only recently.”
I could understand now. Understand very well. My sister’s greatest pleasure had always come from the act of hurting. Too often in the past I’d been her helpless target. Not anymore. Undoubtedly she had learned some unsavory things about the other side of my family, and she meant to enjoy every moment of this revelation.
I got up quite steadily and walked out of the room. Later, though I couldn’t remember crossing the bridge to the guesthouse, I found myself in the bedroom, where I put on a robe. My hands were shaking so that I could hardly tie the cord. When I lay down on the bed, I pulled a blanket over me to stop my shivering.
The telephone stood within easy reach. I had only to pick it up and make a plane reservation. Yet I waited, and in that moment of desolation I was open again to Vermilion. The whispering came quickly and clearly. Almost as if it emanated from somewhere in the room outside of me.
You have to stay. You have to know.
“I don’t want to know. I’m afraid!” I spoke the words aloud.
There’s more than that. You need to fight Sybil—pay her off. It’s in your power now to do that.
Again I found myself answering aloud. “I don’t need that. Not anymore.”
/> Determinedly, I sat up and reached for the phone, and as I did so my hand encountered something on the table beside it. Something small and delicate and beautiful. It rested in a film of the red dust that seemed to permeate everything in Sedona whenever the wind blew.
I saw that it was a tiny unicorn made of clay. Unfired, unglazed, brittle clay, and very fragile. I picked it up with care and balanced it on toy palm. A child’s work—Marilla’s undoubtedly—done with an exquisite feeling of grace, of motion. The little thing looked at me with a gentle, benign gaze—as though it might cavort off my hand at any moment and go charging away, flinging that slanted horn in the air as it tossed its tiny head.
I’d left the door open and when I turned at a sound, she stood there watching me—small and alert, and as ready to fly at the slightest rebuff as the unicorn on my hand.
“Come in, Marilla,” I said. “You made this, didn’t you?”
She had just come home from school, and her books were still on her arm. Dropping them into a chair, she came toward me.
“It’s for you. I didn’t know what else I could give you. I wanted to make up for—for being mean to you last night, when I brought you Grandpa Jed’s cane. Maybe I really did know it would upset you.”
“This is very beautiful,” I said. “Thank you, Marilla. It’s a lovely present. Have you shown it to Mrs. Montgomery, your art teacher?”
She shook her head and soft curls danced. “Oh, no! Nobody knows I make up imaginary animals. Except Grandpa Jed. He showed me how, with the clay. My mother would say it’s foolish. She likes me to do sensible things.”
I winced. “And your father? Has he seen this?”
“No! Please don’t show it to him, Lindsay.”
“I won’t if you don’t want me to, but I think he’d be delighted.”
Her eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “My mother doesn’t like me to be dreamy,” she said. “There really aren’t any unicorns.”
Anger was rising in me—a fury against my sister that was greater than any I’d ever felt. Nevertheless, I answered quietly.
“Perhaps she just means not being dreamy at the wrong time. I don’t think much would ever be accomplished if there weren’t dreamers.”
“That’s like what Grandpa Jed told me one time.” She had brightened and now she took a cushion from a chair, dropped it on the floor and sat cross-legged, looking up at me. “He said the most fun he knew was to make up exciting dreams.”
“He certainly knew how to do that,” I agreed.
“Yes! He said all the best and most wonderful things in the world came out of dreaming.”
And some of the worst, I thought, though I didn’t say it aloud. Not for anything would I erase the rapt expression on Marilla’s face as she went on.
“He said carrying out dreams was the hard part, and not nearly so much fun. He said it was fine while he was getting things rolling. Then after a while he started to get bored.”
I held up the little unicorn. “He was wrong. This is the best part of dreaming—when you make what’s in your mind come true.”
“But sometimes dreams just fall apart when you try to make them real.”
“That’s part of it too. You should see my waste-basket! But then when something begins to happen on the paper—or in the clay—there’s hardly anything in the world more exciting. In the end, if there’s a unicorn, you have a better reward than money, or becoming famous, or anything.”
Marilla’s eyes were shining. “That’s the way it was! Only when I finished, I didn’t know if it was any good. You’re the first person I’ve shown it to.”
“It’s very good. Perhaps Mrs. Montgomery can fire it for you, if she has a kiln. Otherwise, it will dry to powder and fall apart.”
“It’s yours. You can do what you like with it.”
“Why don’t you want me to show it to your father?”
“He might laugh, and then I’d feel awful. And Mom says not to bother him when he’s so busy.”
“I think he’d have time for this. Do you really mind if I show it to him?”
She tried to sound indifferent. “I don’t care.”
I wondered if Rick had any idea that he inspired such anxiety in his daughter. I knew that he worried about her, and about Sybil’s influence, although he might not be fully aware of Marilla’s hidden fears and hero worship. Or of the subtle damage Sybil could do.
“I was in Clara Hale’s shop today,” I went on, “and I saw the Fire People that my father sculpted. It’s a very fine piece.”
Once more she brightened. “Wait till you see the real Fire People on Saturday. Brian is going to save places for us in the jeep when he takes out a tour. We can sit right up front with him. He promised.”
I hesitated and then spoke gently. “I’m not sure I’ll be here on Saturday. I’ve told your mother that I may be leaving.”
“What about the dinner she’s planned?” Marilla cried. “Mom said you’d be here for that.”
“There are reasons why I shouldn’t stay,” I told her.
She regarded me sadly. “I didn’t even get to see Vermilion.” She went to a window and stood looking out toward the house. After a moment she beckoned to me. “Come here, Lindsay.”
When I went to stand beside her, I saw that Sybil and Rick were on the terrace behind the house. Rick’s back was toward me, but I could see Sybil clearly, and if ever body language meant anything, she was an angry woman.
“They’re fighting again,” Marilla said. “Sometimes they scare me.”
I’d turned away in dismay, when my phone rang and I went to pick it up.
“This is Orva Montgomery,” the voice said.
“Yes,” I answered. “Brian’s mother.”
“Clara tells me you may be leaving soon. If that’s true, I’d like to see you first. It’s rather important. What about supper tonight? Will you come if I send Brian for you?”
So she was the one! I was sure of it now. The writer of those two notes would never let me get away without revealing her purpose.
“I’d like that,” I said. “What time shall I be ready?”
“Let’s say five o’clock? Then we’ll have time to talk. It will just be an early supper. I’m no Sybil.”
“Anything at all will be fine. I’ll be ready. And thank you.”
“You can think about thanking me later,” she said and rang off.
Marilla had left the window and was moving listlessly toward the door.
“Mrs. Montgomery has invited me for supper tonight,” I told her. “Do you mind if I take the unicorn to show her?”
“I don’t care.” Again, she spoke indifferently, and I had the feeling that she was deliberately dismissing me from her life. Perhaps she had connected me with my father, whom she loved and missed. Perhaps she expected more of me than I could give. I was sorry to disappoint her, and I felt guilty about it. Had I made the wrong decision, after all?
“Would you like me to stay through Saturday?” I asked.
But I had already lost her, and she wouldn’t trust me now. “I don’t care,” she repeated, and went out the door.
I wished there had been some way to reach her. If I stayed, perhaps I could manage that on Saturday’s jeep trip.
Now my meeting with Orva Montgomery lay ahead, with whatever disturbing revelations it might bring, and I must hurry to get ready.
As I started for the bathroom to shower, someone knocked on my door. I opened it to find Rick standing there, and I stepped back to let him in, once more on guard. Against myself, as much as against him.
“I can drive you to your plane tomorrow, if you’re really bent on leaving,” he said abruptly.
So he’d been talking to either Clara or Sybil. I let my breath out in a long, despairing sigh. “I’ve never felt so torn and undecided, Rick. A little while ago Sybil said some things that I don’t know how to deal with.”
“You musn’t let her drive you away. At the same time, Lindsay, if you stay it has to be your
own choice.”
“I know. Rick, Sybil says she’s invited someone who’s related to me for dinner Saturday night.”
We’d stood near the door talking, and now Rick came past me into the living room to sit down wearily. “I was afraid she’d try something like this. A long time ago Jed told Orva about you. Orva’s never said a word until recently, when she let the truth slip out with Sybil. Never mind. Sybil will play out one of her dramatic scenes, and that gives us time to forestall her.”
“Is it my mother she’s invited?” I asked.
He answered me gently. “Your mother died when you were born, Lindsay. That’s why Jed took you home to New York as a baby. I’ve always thought he should have told you that much, at least. His wife didn’t want you to be told, however.”
A surprising, almost devastating relief flooded through me. For as long as I could remember, the age-old question had hovered over my life: why had my real mother given me up? Why had she let Jed take me from her? But I’d never expected to feel such relief at the answer. The flood of emotion brought with it a kind of healing. Nothing that Sybil had planned could hurt me now.
“I’ll stay through her dinner,” I said.
“By that time you’ll be armed—because I mean to tell you the whole story first. I’ve intended to. I just wanted you to be ready. I’d planned to take you to Flagstaff tomorrow to see Alice Spencer, and if you stay then I think we should still go. I’d like you to see what’s possible in this idea of mine before you leave.”
“I’m willing to go,” I said.
His look was kind, and I turned away because kindness might undo me completely. When I spoke again, I tried to sound casual.
“Brian Montgomery is coming in a little while to pick me up. I’m invited to his mother’s for supper tonight. Will you please tell Sybil I won’t be with you.”
“To Orva’s?” There was something uneasy in his voice.
“Don’t you like her?”
“I do like her. I don’t always trust her. She’s fine with Marilla, but she’s also capable of conniving.”
I picked up the small unicorn and held it out to him. “Your daughter has a very special talent.”
Vermilion Page 10